Nymph That He Is
by Sunni D. Lockhart
Summary: I don't know why it bothers me like it does...After all, he really can't help it...


Nymph that He Is

It shouldn't bother me as much as it does. After all, he really can't help it.

I noticed this (finally) after about three years. At first, I thought it was just an annoying habit of his that he did deliberately just to annoy me, and distract himself from what he was supposed to be doing. It made me furious, even then. Before I even knew why I got so angry….

To him, flirting is as natural as breathing. He couldn't keep people from adoring him if he tried.

He's a nymph. He smiles at women, men, children, even little animals and charms them. With sweet smiles and a flash of his amber eyes, he can seduce anything in seconds. He really can't help it. He lives for love, and he always has. He is Italy, after all. It's just his nature.

Am I his victim? I'd be lying if I said I was an unwilling one. With Italy, it is no matter that he is a man as I am. Italy is love, and beauty, and desire, and sexuality that is not hindered by the matter of gender. I could pronounce to anyone that I love Italy with everything that I am capable of, and no one would even think to call it gay.

Any man that is straight as a die, being subjected to the fluidity of his flirtation, would struggle healthily to resist the attraction of my Feliciano.

Of course, he doesn't know, in that adorably oblivious way of his. I assume that his constant attentions to me are done out of a sort of bewilderment that he found a person supposedly immune to his spell. I am not eager to let him that he has indeed conquered Germany, lest he feel satisfied with himself, and jovially move on to his next victim.

Rest assured the oft professed virginity is true; I have made certain that this remains so. I won't have other people touching my things.

But no matter what I do, I can't prevent his nature, and I can't prevent his effect on others. Even my own BROTHER is half in love with him…

"_Ita-chan is so cute!"_

"_Oy, West! When is Ita-chan coming over?"_

"_Ita-chaaan, you wanna taste my wurst? Kesesesese…" _

If I hadn't promised that I wouldn't kill him…

I enter his room; he hasn't noticed me yet. He is engrossed in a painting. I watch as his child like hands grasp the brush with such artistic dexterity that I have to remind myself that he is the same lovable klutz that insists upon me helping him tie his shoelaces.

Fettuccine, his cat, perches atop the easel, admiring her owners beautiful brushstrokes. She senses my presence before Feliciano does, and glares. She flicks her tail irritably that I would attempt to intrude on _her_ alone time with him and emits a low growl in her throat, warning me not to come any closer.

Feli glances up her innocently, "Ve~? Fettuccine?"

She licks her paw, stroking her ear in an attempt to mask her anger.

He giggles, pats her head, and resumes painting.

She shoots me a smug look. She leaps down from her perch, right into Feliciano's paints. He gasps in surprise, but lifts her up, and places her back.

Twice more she does this, insisting that she have his full attention.

He laughs, "Mio piccolo tesora!" he exclaims, before lifting her over his shoulder to sweep his hand from the tip of her nose to her tail.

She closes her eyes in bliss as he continues his ministrations on her; digging her claws into the back of his shirt and purring loudly.

She regards me with half lidded sapphire eyes, _"He is MINE. He is mine, and we don't need you here!"_ She seems to say with those flickering, slanted eyes.

I had been bested by a cat, of all things. I was vying for Feli's attention against a cat….

…And I was losing.

Just to prove her wrong, to remind her who held the monopoly on his devotion and love, I clear my throat.

Immediately, Feliciano turns and his face lights up in elation, "Ludwig! You've come to see me!"

Fettuccine meows in indignance as she is placed on the floor.

I lock my knees and hold out my arms, and he leaps into them enthusiastically.

I hoist him up and he wraps his legs around my waist like an octopus. Fettuccine positively fumes, her tail swishing in fury.

I send a triumphant smirk at her. "_Feliciano belongs to ME. Not you or anyone else. MEIN ITALIEN."_

Already he's laughing and prattling on about how happy he is to see me, and for now, I feel at ease.

…And I also plan on "accidently" letting Aster loose in here tomorrow…


End file.
